“Don’t tell me it was Benning.”
“Not only was it Benning, but we have pictures of Stewart and Benning together as teenagers, watching her get screwed by someone while old man Caruthers filmed it.”
“Are you shitting me?”
“The goodies aren’t over. We found Parnell’s computer too. She was on to them. Remember that note we found in her email? ‘What is he doing in BH?’”
“Yeah. What about it?” Frankie said.
“She did research on the house, and on the Leo Caruthers Foundation. Caruthers left all of his money to a foundation for artists, but the director of the foundation was Wilfred B. Caruthers, otherwise known as Bruce Stewart.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah. Parnell must have found out about Chad and Bruce. I’d bet all the money I don’t have that they were siphoning millions from the foundation. Who knows maybe she wanted a piece of it. Maybe she was going to turn them in? In either case, they must have found out and decided to kill her.”
Frankie thought for a moment. “Are you saying those sick bastards killed all those other people just to cover up killing her?”
“Don’t write it in stone, but that’s what it looks like so far.”
“You know what, Lou. I’m glad I’m poor.”
“Me too,” Lou said. “See ya’ later.”
***
It was half an hour before Kate came back to Frankie’s room. She had flowers in her arms.
“I didn’t hear from you so…” she looked at the parts of the phone lying on the floor. “And now I see why.”
“Sorry. I lost my temper.”
“I can’t believe it—an Irishman losing his temper. ”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Can’t believe that either.”
Frankie broke down and laughed. “Sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“Who are the flowers from?”
“It doesn’t say.”
“I see a card. What does it say?”
Kate’s brow wrinkled. “I respect a man who struggles so much with right and wrong. And I respect loyalty. We are now even.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I get surprised by people all the time.”
Kate lay her head on Frankie’s lap and stared up at his face. Without a word being said, he leaned down and kissed her. “I love you, Kate Burns. I just don’t know what took me so long to realize it.”
She stroked his face. “You’ve always loved me. You just had to find a way to love yourself first.”
CHAPTER 66
A Quiet Night Alone
It had been two hours since Bugs called. I was still pissed at him. The nerve of the son of a bitch, after what I did for him. As I started across the Delaware Memorial Bridge, Angie called. “Nicky, are you all right?”
“Hey, babe. Yeah, I’m fine. Damn traffic was a mess, though. Two accidents.”
“Where are you?”
“Just crossing the bridge into Delaware. I won’t be long.”
“Okay, I’ll see you soon.”
“Tell Sister Thomas to get her game face on. We’re playing Scrabble tonight.”
She laughed, which made me feel good, and I thought I heard Sister Thomas in the background mentioning “punishment” or something to that effect. She was right. Between her and Rosa, I would be dead meat. It was hot and humid. My boss would probably be pissed, but despite it all, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
Life is good.
It only took me about twenty more minutes to get home. Rosa was racing down the sidewalk to greet me before I got out of the car.
“Dad!”
She threw her arms around me and squeezed, then whispered in my ear. “Mom’s suspicious, but she’s glad you’re home.”
I smiled, then laughed. She might not have been my kid, but I loved her as if she was. “Thanks. I owe you one.”
“You owe me a lot more than one.”
“Okay. We’ll settle up later.”
“Let me take that,” she said, and grabbed my bag.
Angie met me at the door. She never looked as beautiful as she did now: hair a mess, her green-and-white apron stained with red sauce, and no makeup. Just the way I loved her. There wasn’t a person on earth I loved more than Angie. Not even myself.
Especially not myself.
“It’s good to be back,” I said.
She kissed me. A damn good kiss, then patted my butt. “You’re late, Mr. Fusco. Wash your hands and open the wine.”
“In that order?”
“Yes, in that order.”
Sister Thomas was sitting in my chair, reading a magazine. “Sister, are you going to partake of the wine?”
“God doesn’t object to wine, Niccolo. Pour me a glass.”
“You know you’re sitting in my chair, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. But you wouldn’t dare throw out an old woman like me.”
We all laughed, and I gave her a big hug. “It’s good to see you.”
I looked around. “Where’s Dante?”
“He’s at my cousin Marie’s house for the night,” Angie said. “She begged to have him.”
She started for the kitchen but Rosa stopped her. “I’ll get everything, Mom. You sit.”
“She’s so grown up,” Sister Thomas said. “You two are lucky to have such a wonderful daughter.”
“You and Angie talk while I get the wine,” I said.
Rosa elbowed me when I got into the kitchen. She was busy preparing a plate of crostini with olive oil, artichoke hearts, and caramelized onions. One of my favorites.
“You know, Dad, I’m thinking that for all of this mediating and matchmaking, this little girl deserves a new iPhone.”
“I didn’t know you had become a counselor.”
“I’m the one who suggested Dante go to Marie’s. I can give you advice too.”
Rosa was getting too old too fast. “What kind of advice?”
“All I’m saying is that I saw Mom washing her sexy nightgown a few hours ago.”
I damn near dropped the wine. “Rosa!” Then I looked around to make sure Angie or Sister Thomas weren’t near.
“What? I’m not blind. I made an observation. I’m just saying, if you treat her right tonight…”
I could feel myself blushing ten shades of red. “Rosa…”
She stretched and kissed me on the cheek. “Love you, Dad.”
I leaned toward Rosa. “Which nightgown?”
I thought she would fall over laughing. “The blue one with peach ties.”
Oh my God.
I poured three glasses and was about to take them into the living room when Rosa set a fourth next to me. “I’ll take one, please.”
“You’re a little blackmailer.”
She took a sip of the wine and smiled. “I learned from the best.”
I took the wine, and she followed with the tray of crostini and napkins. Sister Thomas took her first bite and smiled. “I know this recipe. It tastes just like Rosa Sannullo’s.”
Rosa blushed. “Thank you, Sister. Mom is the one who taught me everything about cooking, and she learned it all from Mamma Rosa.”
Sister Thomas grabbed a second crostini. “This would have been enough to get you A’s in my class.”
“And she doesn’t accept small bribes,” I said.
Rosa called us to the table just as we finished our appetizers. It was a simple meal, but it was my favorite—spaghetti, meatballs, and garlic bread. Olives were served on the side.
Sister Thomas waited for Rosa to sit, then said, “Niccolo, why don’t you say grace.”
I blessed myself, repeating the prayers in Latin, as I always did despite Rosa’s objections. At the end I added a special thanks. “God, thank you for giving me this wonderful family and such good friends. I pray you keep them safe and happy, Amen.”
Sister Thomas smiled. “You forgot t
o thank Him for this wonderful food, Niccolo.” She turned to Rosa. “If I tell Sister Julian about your cooking, she will insist on your being in her class next year.”
Angie squeezed my hand and smiled. The words, I love you formed on her lips.
Goddamn, it’s good to be home.
Sister Thomas left about two hours later. I poured what was left from the second bottle of wine and shared it with Angie. “So what are we going to do tonight? Want to watch a movie?”
“I’m tired, Nicky. I think I’m going to hit it early. You should come to bed too; you must be tired.”
Rosa stood behind Angie. “You might as well, Dad. I’m spending the night at Sally’s house.” She winked at me and smiled.
“That settles it,” Angie said. “We’re both getting our rest tonight.” She grabbed our wine glasses and took them to the kitchen.
I looked at Rosa, standing there with a shit-eating grin on her face. “I think I’ll take the white iPhone,” she said, and kissed my cheek. “Have fun.”
The door closed and Angie called from the kitchen. “Did Rosa leave?”
“Yeah, just now. You need her?”
Angie walked out of the kitchen naked from the waist up. “Lock that door, Niccolo Fusco. Then get your ass upstairs.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Making love for us had always been great. It was never a chore, or a duty, and we both seemed to want it at the same time. So while it was always great, having the house to ourselves was like being teenagers again—wild and uncontrolled. We played in the shower, teased as we dried each other off, and Angie teased a lot more when we got in bed.
We both moved slower. My lips lingered longer on different parts of her, but in the end…she was magnificent, as always. And it reinforced how much I stood to lose. When we finished making love, I lay next to her and softly kissed her lips.
“I love you, Angela Catrino.”
She got a look in her eyes, and her response was another invitation wrapped in a kiss. “It is Angela Fusco now, not Catrino.”
I laid my head on her shoulder and ran my fingertips up and down her side. “It will be Fusco forever.”
She shivered, goose bumps running up her arms. “You know this night isn’t over, Mr. Fusco.”
“I sure hope not.”
“We should do this weekly. Send the kids away and have the house to ourselves.”
“We should do it every night,” I said.
She laughed. “As if you could.”
“I could.”
“Liar.”
We lay there for a moment. I felt her tense and wondered what had changed.
“Nicky, tell me what happened in New York.”
Goddamn. I didn’t want to go there. I tried to feign boredom. “Read about it in the papers tomorrow.”
“Nicky…”
“Bugs’ partners got the guy who did it. It was the same guy who killed those couples.”
She grabbed me by the hair and raised my head. “And Detective Mazzetti got him? Not you?”
I stared her straight in the eyes. “Angie, look in the paper yourself. It will all be there tomorrow.”
I didn’t fool her with my lies, but she needed was something to believe in. Some thread to latch onto and to convince herself that I didn’t kill anyone. I had to give her that. We needed each other, me probably more than her. I wasn’t about to let something like killing a few scumbags get in the way.
She reached between my legs and grabbed me. “Aren’t you ready yet?”
“For God’s sake, you just interrogated me.”
“Let’s take another shower,” she said. “I think I know how to fix that.”
After the shower we made love again. I don’t know how, but it was even better this time. But everything with Angie seemed to get better with time. A lot of guys complained about their wives, bitched about what they spent, or about their nagging, or never making love. I had no complaints. How could I? She was a saint. And all she asked was that I be a normal person. Not a killer. I felt like punching myself in the face. What the hell was wrong with me?
Look what you’ve got to lose, Fusco.
But then I thought about what Doggs used to say to us when we were kids—that God put everyone on earth for a reason.
“God doesn’t have time to mess around with the little stuff,” Doggs said, “So he put us here to do that for him. Make sure things run smooth, see that the people who like to gamble have a place to do it, and those who like whores know who to see.”
Doggs was weird like that. He had a lot of strange ideas, but still…underneath it all, I had to wonder. Even Sister Thomas talked about avenging angels. Did God have them here on earth? Is that what I was destined for?
I got sick even thinking of killing an innocent person. An animal? Forget about it. But when faced with people like Stewart and Benning, my insides burned until something was done. I didn’t know if that’s what God had in mind for me, if He put me here to be one of His avenging angels…
But if you did, God, I won’t let you down.
Thanks for taking the time to read the book. I hope you enjoyed it.
Authors live and die on recommendations and reviews, so if you liked the book, please tell someone about it. And if you have a spare moment, I’d love for you to put a review wherever you can: Amazon, B&N, iBooks, Kobo, Goodreads, Linked-in, Twitter or Facebook.
Frankie and Nicky will be back again next year in Murder Is Invisible. But be sure to sign the mailing list so you hear about all the special sales and new releases. Old Wounds, A Redemption Novel, is up next, followed by The Good Words, with Connie & Tip.
Thanks again for your time,
Giacomo
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Acknowledgments
The tough part of writing a book is not the writing, it’s all the stuff that comes after that. I’ll take credit for the writing. For the tough parts I am honor bound to thank the following:
My great copy editor, Annette Lyon.
Natasha Brown for the fantastic book cover.
Morgana Gallaway from The Editorial Department, for the amazing layout and formatting.
And most importantly the beta readers who helped me get this book into shape: Missy, Otto, Chris, Nick, Rose, Carrie Shepherd, Elizabeth Hull, Wendy Justice, Rita Armstrong, Lee Carey, Mary Lee, Cary Lory, and Marc DiGiacomo. If I missed someone, please shoot me.
It takes a lot of technical help to write a book like this. I owe a debt of gratitude to my good friend, Skip Oliver, Retired Major in the Harris County Sheriff’s Office. Whatever mistakes are in here, are mine alone.
I also want to give special thanks to my niece, Emiliana, for making me laugh on many nights when I needed a laugh, and to Braden and Bella for all the wonderful video chats.
Lastly, to my wife, Mikki.
Ti amo con tutto il mio cuore.
About the Author
I grew up in a large Italian family in the Northeast. No one had money, so for entertainment our family played board games and told stories. I loved the city—the noise, the people—but it was the family get togethers and the storytelling that stuck with me.
I still love storytelling, but now I write the stories instead of telling them.
My wife and I live in Texas, where we run an animal sanctuary with 45 loving "friends.” One of them is a crazy wild boar named Dennis, who is my best buddy.
Sometimes I miss the early days, but not much. Now I enjoy the solitude and the noise of the animals.
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Murder Takes Patience Page 33